One Step Forward, Two Steps Backwards
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: Try as he might, the Shadow would still come for him.


**Author's Note:** Third oneshot, as short and even more than the others. Enjoy, though!^^

**Disclaimer: I do not own Amnesia: The Dark Descent; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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_15__th__ of August, 1839_

_The blood wards are failing! The Shadow beckons, and its cry disarms my actions._

_x x x_

_Hurry, no time to spare: you _have_ to kill another._

But I don't move; I simply can't. I am paralyzed, looming over the victim who is secured upon the stone slab. I stare at him, at his trembling body, and I remember that I once was shaking so violently… the first time I had performed a ritual. Now I'm not scared, which is why I should be able to carry this out with no complications, but I cannot reach for the dagger to begin. Its lying next to my hand: it takes the simplest of movements to grab it, yet I am unable to. I can't bring myself to do this.

_Alexander produces a knife. He wants _me_ to cut the flesh! _

But I can't.

_Do it: save yourself. He is a murderer, Daniel__, he is evil! A cold-blooded killer! Hurry!_

What I have feared all along happens: my hand starts shaking. How am I supposed to perform the ritual if I can barely control myself? I hesitate, I take a step back: I… I'm going to kill somebody! It is no different than all the tortures I have administrated to others, since I have indirectly killed them anyway, and no different than previous rituals either, where I only had to finish with a swift cut to the heart, but I am going to start from the _very_ beginning. No… It's Alexander: he's prompting me… I have to focus!

_Alexander, you must let me be! I have to concentrate! _

I finally feel the dagger in my grasp, cold and unforgiving, and I near my victim. It's simple, it's astonishingly _simple_! It's a routine, it's a proceeding, it's nothing more! _Paint the man, cut the lines, cut the flesh, watch the blood spill – let it come!_ I know what has to be done, and I do it. I take the small box containing the paint, I pick some of it on my fingers and I trace them over my victim's chest with care. I can feel it: the joy and the pride that good deeds invoke within oneself. The marks are done, glimmering under the candlelight. It all brings a smile to my face: I am close to salvation, closer each second! My victim panics, struggles to free himself from his restraints but alas, _I_ made sure there was no way he could escape.

And slowly, I trace the markings with the dagger. As I do it, I laugh: why had I hesitated? It had been stupid! I watch the blade I wield deal reversible but deep and painful damage to the man's flesh; it's being torn open with such easiness that I dig the blade deeper inside. I watch the blood spill over his chest: this ward will _not_ fail. The ward will be successful, the Shadow will yield and it will let me go! I'm sure of it! I continue to tear flesh open, blood continues to spill, the man continues to exclaim in pain that can only be described as… rewarding. I am suffering because of the Orb, because of its guardian, suffering greatly: what better way to get rid of the Shadow than giving my suffering back to it? It doesn't matter if it's _others'_ suffering: it's _pain_ either way!

I remember the arsonist I tortured begging for freedom with despaired cries of innocence. 'Please, I didn't do anything!', he'd said to us. I just laugh out loud, and my victim cringes at the sound. Everybody was lying, so is this man, and my duty is to punish him for his actions. _Paint the man, cut the lines! Paint the man, CUT THE LINES!_

"Please!" the man cries. There is nothing he can do to stop the pain, and I certainly am not going to put an end to it… until he's dead. He's thrashing, and I finish tracing the markings. It's done: the blood's spilling, _his_ blood… not _mine_. It flows and spills onto the floor, it tells me I've done the right thing. And finally, the man stops thrashing and complaining: he is _dead_ at last.

"Hush, hush…" I whisper. "Now you sleep."

As he dies, I smile.

_I've done well… I've done it, I've done it!_

"One life for another!" I exclaim, but I feel ecstatic. I know I've done correctly; now, the Shadow will choose and hunt another. "You hear me, Guardian of the Orb? I did all this for _YOU_. Now, once more, withdraw your Shadow from my domain!"

And I laugh.

But the roars are back! W-why? The ritual should've worked! I've done as I had to...

Have I failed? Has all my work been in vain? It can't be, it just can't! I've spent days, _hours_ preparing to do these rituals correctly! Why have my efforts been ignored? I... I don't know if I can keep doing this anymore. I haven't worried about taking lives to spare my own, but how long till I have to give mine? That's the only choice I have left: to sacrifice my own life in order to save my soul, because I know the Shadow will haunt me even beyond my grave. Isn't the blood in my hands enough proof for this guardian to spare my life? It should've been like Alexander said; why isn't it working?

God help me...


End file.
